


Wither

by viviixen



Series: Fragile (Don't Touch Me) [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chronic Illness, Gen, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Platonic Cuddling, Precious Peter Parker, THEY DESERVE IT, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Touch-Starved, from each other, if that bothers u, its a made up disease but still be safe!!!!, might be a series, p l a t o n i c - Freeform, someone on discord wanted me to write fluff and angst, this is one of the fluffiest things ur gonna get from me im edgy af, uwu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-05 19:14:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17924702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viviixen/pseuds/viviixen
Summary: He never really worried about the disease until he met Peter Parker. The kid also wore leather gloves, but Peter said he’d worn them ever since the spider bite, because his hands were sensitive and everything hurt. And Tony believed him, because for all of Tony’s genius, he was stupid sometimes.The problem was that Peter was clingy, and if Tony didn’t know that May loved him to death and back he would think the kid was as touch-starved as him.or the touch of death AU ive been wanting to write since forever but never got around to it





	Wither

**Author's Note:**

> heya, another oneshot i know. im sorry i just love this idea and then my stupid one-track mind was like "yeah but what if its irondad" and my brain exploded 
> 
> i might make this a series, please tell me in the comments if you wanna see more? i dont think ill actually start a big project or anything before i finish my other one, but just in case lol
> 
> pls enjoy!!!! :D

            Tony remembered a time when he didn’t wear leather gloves on his hands like they were glued to him, somewhere far in the past where he could remember what skin, hair, or green leaves felt like.

            At night he would just sit and stare at his black hand and remember all of it, when things wouldn’t wither when he touched them.

            The public didn’t know that Anthony Edward Stark was a victim of tactu mortem, the infamous black touch. The public didn’t know that those leather gloves weren’t a sign of vanity, as he’d have them believe.

            That was why he loved building. Because he was making, not destroying for once. He could pet his bots and pretend he was petting a cat or dog, and even if it would never be the same as fur, he was content. Pepper insisted on caring about Tony despite his literal black thumb, and Rhodey was still Rhodey from college and still came over to make fun of Tony and be his best friend every once in a while.

            He never really worried about the disease until he met Peter Parker. The kid also wore leather gloves, but Peter said he’d worn them ever since the spider bite, because his hands were sensitive and everything hurt. And Tony believed him, because for all of Tony’s genius, he was stupid sometimes.

            The problem was that Peter was clingy, and if Tony didn’t know that May loved him to death and back he would think the kid was as touch-starved as him. Any time Tony so much as brushed his shoulder against him the kid chased it, and it wasn’t only him that the kid seemed to crave.

            May would hug him around his middle, and Peter would gladly stay there until well over a minute had passed before stepping away.

            Ned would high five him in front of the school and Peter seemed disappointed when it didn’t last longer.

            Another thing that was an issue was the layers, something Tony also had in common with the boy. Peter would wear at least 3 at all times, a long sleeved shirt and a thick sweater and a jacket and jeans that went well past his ankles.

            Tony knew what those things were like, when he was younger and struggling the most with his disease, and Tony began to wonder. He began to wonder because maybe one time Tony would be able to hug Peter back, without literally 10 layers of clothing between them and 2 pairs of leather gloves.

            But despite Tony’s wondering, he could still never imagine touching the kid. Actually reaching out to him without the gloves. He started to wear them even in the workshop, for Peter’s sake.

            He didn’t want Peter to wither.

            It was a surprise visit. On a Sunday, when their lab days were supposed to be Friday night and Saturday so they could stay up all night and listen to Brooklyn 99 while making useless things like a super blender or a disco ball that could make colors humans couldn’t see (which Peter said looked, quote, “Freakin’ amazing, Mr. Stark, whoa!” Tony hadn’t meant to make the discovery that Peter was able to see colors a lot better than anyone else could, but the more you know).

            FRIDAY barely had time to announce his arrival before, in typical Peter fashion, busted through the door with a slur of jumbled, indistinguishable word salad and excited hand gestures. He was animatedly talking about an idea he had.

            “Hi Underoos,” he said, not looking up from where his arm was elbow-deep into a piece of Iron Man armor. He had fingerless gloves on, feeling weird without them now that he worked with gloves but knowing accuracy was vital in this particular project. He could hear Peter rummage around the scraps table, like usual.

            “What’s this?” Peter said, voice breathy. He muttered something along the lines of “Oh-woe what’s this?” before picking said nanotech prototype up.

            “Hey! Put that down– don’t press the button!”

            Peter pressed the button.

            He yelped as the blade pierced his hand, and cursed loudly. _“Where the frick-frack did that come from?”_

            Tony rushed to his side, hands hovering over Peter’s shoulders. The kid had curled his hands into fists, biting his lip in pain.

            “Kiddo, that was a prototype, c’mon let me see your hands,” Tony coaxed, touching them. Peter jerked away, shaking his head. “Kid…”

            “Mr. Stark, I’m fine. It didn’t even touch me!” Peter said with a fake smile.

            “You’re a terrible liar.” Tony raised an eyebrow. The kid was dripping blood all over his floor, for god’s sake. “Hands.”

            Peter shook his head vigorously. “No, Mr. Stark. I’m good! I’m good.”

            Frustrated but also wanting to help, Tony reached for Peter’s hands. He caught the kid’s gloves just as he pulled away, and Peter downright yelled.

            _”No!”_

Tony’s exposed fingers brushed Peter’s, and Peter gasped and held his fists to his chest. Tears welled up in Peter’s eyes, and Tony moved closer.

            “Pete?”

            “I’m so sorry Mr. Stark this is all my fault and now you’re going to–“ Peter hiccupped, sobbing.

            “I’m going to what?” Tony asked gently, resting his gloved hand on Peter’s shoulders. “Spiderling, talk to me…”

            Peter took a deep breath, and unfurled his fingers. Tony backed up, confused, before Peter lifted his hands palms-out in front of his face.

            They were black, stained.

            “I’m a monster,” Peter whispered, sounding like he was admitting a sin.

            Tony was frozen, mouth open. No. No way, not Peter. Peter was one of the brightest, happiest people Tony knew. There was no way he was infected.

            “Peter,” Tony immediately wrapped his bigger hands around Peter’s littler ones. “Pete, Petey, Underoos, Spiderling.” He pulled away, hesitating before taking his own gloves off.

            “You’re not going to wither me, I promise,” Tony assured.

            Peter’s breath caught in his throat, watery eyes wide. “You, but, how?”

            Tony lifted his hands in front of his face just like Peter did, showing his own dark palms. “Tactu mortem,” he recited from the countless articles he had read on the disease, “burns those without, but is kind to those infected. From Mayo Clinic.”

            Tony thought he said something wrong, because Peter just stared at him, shocked, for a long while.

            Tony wobbled on his bent knees when the kid slammed into him, squeezing him tight. “I can touch you,” Peter whispered in awe. He felt the kid’s hands grasp Tony’s shirt. “You’re so warm, oh my god. Are people _supposed_ to be this warm?”

            Tony held on just as tight. “Pete, were you born with this?”

            He could feel Peter nod into his chest and lord; the kid had probably never had a proper hug in his life.

            Tony carded his fingers through his hair, burying his nose in the curls. “You know, you could’ve told me, kiddo.”

            “The media says–“

            “The media can go fu… step on a LEGO,” Tony said, remembering what Peter had told Tony to use around May instead of cussing. “I don’t care if you have black touch, or HIV, or autism, because you’re Pete. My Pete.”

            Peter was hugging him so tight, but Tony didn’t care if the kid broke a rib. He was going to give Peter the best first hug ever.

            “I withered my parents,” Peter whispered, “they thought it was food poisoning, it took a long time to finish.”

            “I’m so sorry.”

            “Don’t be, I’m just,” he hiccupped again, “I can hold your hand and oh my god my hair,” Peter whispered as Tony threaded his fingers through his chocolate fluff again, “and I can hug you and Aunt May’s hugs are amazing but I can’t _feel her.”_

“Well, we’re gonna do all of that,” Tony said, the swell of happiness suddenly hitting him too. God, he could _hold someone._ “You can hold my hand and I can play with your hair and we can hand each other tools.”

            “Thank you,” Peter choked out. He seemed a little overwhelmed, but immensely grateful. Tony sure was.

            “Shut up,” Tony croaked, trying not to tear up as well. “You’re making me look bad.”

            Peter pulled away, wiping at his eyes and Tony almost mourned the loss. Both of them had been touch-starved, Tony since he caught the disease in Afghanistan from the abundance of death and carnage surrounding him, and Peter since forever.

            “You always look bad,” Peter sniffed, the insult falling flat because of the hesitant smile he wore.

            Tony put his hands on his chest, gasping in fake offense. “And to think I called you my kid!”

**Author's Note:**

> pls tell me what yall thought in the comments? give me feedback, its my sustinence 
> 
> come yell at me on tumblr! @viviixen


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